


Reap What You Sow

by ShadowBiscuit



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Ambiguously happy end, Angst, Bottom Sam, But only with Dean, Demon Dean, Dirty Talk, Fisting, Incest, Love Confession, M/M, Non con turning consensual, Non-Consensual Spanking, OMC/Sam rape, Rough Sex, Top Dean, Violence, Wall Sex, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-01 04:32:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,972
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10914411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShadowBiscuit/pseuds/ShadowBiscuit
Summary: Sam just wanted to let go for a while, the stress of looking for his missing demon brother getting to him more than he would have liked to admit. He thought hanging out in a bar would help with the pain and loneliness, help get rid of the demons in his head.But instead of leaving him alone, Sam's demons finally found him, bringing with them a nightmare he could never wake up from.Whether he wanted to or not.





	Reap What You Sow

**Author's Note:**

> Finally. Finally it's done. I've received this prompt months ago. Several months ago... Took me so damn long to finish it. But I do hope you'll like it, Fireball_Fuchsia, and thank you for letting me choose which prompt I'd like to write from the many, many ones you suggested xD
> 
> Anyway, I hope everyone else will also enjoy this not-so-little thing I wrote! 
> 
> PS: Ribbons baby, can you spot the little easter egg I dumped in there for you? ;)

 

Sam stared into his bottle of beer, brooding, before closing his eyes and downing the rest of his drink. 

“Another one, sweetie?” the bartender asked with a coy little smile, her voice soft and smooth as if she was talking to a child, and Sam couldn’t help but smile right back with a chuckle.

“Yeah, sure. Thanks.” He watched her take the empty bottle and switch it with a new, full one, then turned his gaze to the wide mirror covering the wall behind the counter.

Yep, he definitely needed time to get used to it.

Running a hand through his short hair, Sam sighed. It’s been two days now that he cut his hair. He didn’t do too much; it wasn’t like now he had a buzz cut or anything, but his long, shoulder-length hair has been reduced to short, soft strands that curled just below his ears. He also had bangs again, basically the exact same haircut he had while still studying law at Stanford university, and after all these years letting his hair grow, styling it in all those different ways, it was taking him some time to get used to the old haircut. Especially the bangs.

But he needed change, and he supposed a change in looks was as good as any. Weeks, months have passed, and he still hadn’t the faintest clue where his brother was. His demon brother, apparently bent on staying hidden from him, like some moody teenager throwing a tantrum and running away from home to hang out with his badass friends. Except, in this case, Crowley wasn’t exactly Dean’s friend. Or at least Sam hoped he wasn’t, or else he would have to kick his big brother’s ass even more than he was planning to.

Either way, he needed a break. And a shower. So after endless hours of chasing Dean, of barely three hours of sleep, of drinking booze in amounts that would make even human Dean seem like a beginner, and after being so obsessed with finding the other that he completely neglected his own health, to the point even Cas suggested he visit a hospital after finding him passed out on the floor, cold and sweating, Sam decided enough was enough. He couldn’t continue like that, at least not for much longer. So he took a shower, shaved, put on some fresh clothes and deodorant, and even cut his hair. Hoping that with this new look, this pretence of having it all together, he wouldn’t get the urge to lie in bed or cry in a corner each time he looked at his reflection in the mirror.

Being mistaken for a college kid wasn’t something he expected, though, no matter how much younger he looked with his bangs. He’s even been called _cute_ when he went to pick up some food yesterday, his dimpled smile following the compliment not exactly helping his case. But the strange attention wasn’t that bad. Maybe a bit freaky at first, but Sam was beginning to get used to the looks, even finding them funny; especially when the female bartender asked him if he should be here, as if Sam was some underage kid sneaking out to drink. Although he was pretty sure she was joking with that one.

It did feel rather weird, though. Being here. Alone. He couldn’t remember the last time he’s been in a bar without his brother. Even those very few times he’s been in one alone, it was because of a case, playing the bait, being the lookout, or simply thinking about how to catch their current monster on the loose. But Sam refused to let his mind be flooded with thoughts of one specific runaway “monster” right now, promising himself he was going to have fun. Or at least relax.

Insistent on keeping that promise for tonight, needing at least _one_ night of peace, of feeling like a normal human being without any worries and responsibilities, Sam leaned with his back against the bar, bottle of beer—because he really needed to knock it down a notch and stop with the stronger stuff—in his hand, and looked around.

The Rabbit’s Foot Bar was a nice little rock themed bar, lively songs from The Fratellis filling the place and encouraging people to move their bodies, to tap their feet to the beat or nod their heads, and even Sam found himself enjoying the music, his finger tapping against the bottle as he watched people play pool in a corner. The game reminding him of his brother, he instead turned his attention to the people sitting at tables or standing near the counter, listening in on conversations. Nothing really stood out, the bar full of the usual suspects—bikers that looked like they just came from a Hell’s Angels audition, the lonely drinkers sitting at the end of the bar, loud college students with their friends, and those guys and girls with the makeup and nice clothes, looking all ready to find someone hot enough and get laid. Surprisingly, many of the latter were giving him the eyes, Sam smiling to himself and wondering if one of them would buy him a drink. Not that he would agree to anything, as he wasn’t that man who'd go on dates or have one night stands anymore, but he supposed it might feel nice getting free drinks from women. Unless they’re cougars. Now that would have been awkward, considering that he was 32…but looked around 25. 

The things that a shave and haircut could do, huh?

Turning back to the counter, Sam absently ran his thumb along the bottle, letting the music and the chaotic chatter blur together as his mind wandered, realizing just how out of place he was here. How, despite having every intention of having a good time, he couldn’t detach himself from the worries floating around in his head, keeping him anchored to the cruel reality that was his life. No matter how much he tried, he just couldn’t go back to being normal, could he? It didn’t feel right. Even in this bar, even though being an average person was what Sam’s been dreaming of ever since he learned he was the exact opposite, he couldn’t let go. Being independent was his dream, which made admitting to himself that without Dean, he felt incomplete and lost that much harder.

He tried, but this clearly wasn’t working. And the more time he spent here, feeling uneasy and bored, the more distance his brother was gaining on him, minutes wasted on nothing while he could be searching for Dean instead. It went against his promise, against his common sense, against rational thinking, but Sam couldn’t help it—if he wasn’t looking for his missing brother, any time was wasted time.

“I’m broken,” Sam muttered to himself, shaking his head with a rueful smile and finishing his drink, so used to alcohol by now he barely even felt tipsy. He paid, thanked the bartender, and was about to turn around and leave when he felt a presence next to him.

“Hey there, pretty boy,” the man standing next to him said, leaning with his elbow on the counter and giving him the eyes. The _undressing you with my gaze_ eyes. “All alone? Maybe lost?”

Oh here we go. Sam expected to get hit on, however not by some horny guy. Not that the man himself was disgusting—wavy black hair, tall and built body, good looks, the man had it all. He just wasn’t Sam’s type. Or the right gender. Plus he seemed like an ass, so Sam didn’t particularly feel bad when he stepped back and said, “Sorry buddy, but I don’t swing that way. And I’m just leaving, so—”

But the man wasn’t having any of it. “Come on now, what’s the rush? You seem too sweet to be the judgmental type. Stay,” he purred, hand creeping up to Sam’s biceps and grabbing him with surprising strength.

“Hey,” he said, frowning and trying to pull his arm out of the other’s grasp, feeling frustrated when he noticed he couldn’t. “I’m not in the mood for this. I’m really not what you want, believe me.” He sounded almost sad as he said that. “So let go, okay?”

“You can’t know that, though, can you?” The guy let go, however didn’t seem like he was backing off anytime soon, instead leaning closer with a crooked smirk. “So how about we get to know each other a little, hmm? My name is Max,” he introduced himself, flicking his gaze down to Sam’s lips before looking back into his eyes. “And what’s yours, gorgeous?”

He considered just walking away, but even though he was already in a pretty bad mood, he still didn’t want to be rude. “Sam. I’m Sam. But seriously, I need to go—”

Being cut off again, Max placed a hand on his shoulder and pulled him a little closer. “Let me buy you a drink, Sammy,” he drawled, waving the bartender over while Sam frowned at the nickname. He…really didn’t like it when anyone aside from Dean called him that. “Here.” The man pushed a shot glass his way, that slightly disturbing smirk on his face widening as he raised his own glass in a toast. “Bottoms up.”

Sam watched the man down the shot, before glancing at the glass in front of him with distaste. He knew he ought to just say his goodbyes and walk right out the door, but it didn’t seem like Max was going to let him. And while he wasn’t sure how to get out of this situation, apparently being too kind for his own good, Sam knew that getting drunk now wasn’t the best course of action. “I’d rather not, but thanks for the offer,” he said instead with a thin smile, glancing longingly at the door.

“Come on, pretty,” Max whispered, breath warm and voice sickly sweet yet deep, like warm honey that stuck to your skin and never let go. The man suddenly moved much closer and held up the glass to Sam’s lips. “Open wide.”

Alright, screw kindness, this man was crossing all the lines. “Okay, enough,” he said, pulling away and scowling at the other. “Sorry, but this is just not gonna happen. I have to go now.” He grabbed his jacket from the stool next to him, put it on, then flashed a parting smile at the guy. “Thanks for the drink, but I’m just not that kind of guy. I hope you find someone else. Bye,” he said with a small wave of his hand, already heading for the door, but before he could even take two steps forward, he was stopped by Max’s hand grabbing his wrist _hard_.

For god’s sake… “Listen here, asshole, I told you I’m not—” he began, but was caught off guard as the man suddenly yanked him in, Sam almost tripping and falling against him from the force; and just as he was about flash his nastiest glare at the nosy bastard, he noticed something. A smell, deep under the stink of sweat and alcohol.

“Now now, no need to play hard to get with me,” Max drawled quietly, stepping even closer to him, close enough so that no one saw the darkness blooming from the man’s pupils and covering his eyes with a pitch black layer that meant bad news. “I know exactly who you are, Sammy boy. And I know you really wouldn’t want me to turn this bar into a slaughterhouse. Wouldn’t want me to start mutilating innocent people…” He glanced to the side. “ _Teenagers_ , only here to have a good time.” Max’s lips curled into a crooked smirk as he leaned in and whispered, “I am known for being especially…gruesome, when it comes to murder.”

Sam stared into those bottomless black eyes and cursed himself for not bringing anything to the bar. He always had a knife in his pants, or at least something in the car. He was always ready for action…because every hunter knew that one could never be too careful, monsters showing up any second a very real possibility. Sam made a rookie mistake, all because of his brooding, but he couldn’t let that mistake end the life of all these civilians. This was his fault. 

“Fine. What do you want?” 

So he had to take responsibility, and also make sure to kill the demon later.

Max flashed him a sinister smirk with a glimmer of something filthy in his eyes, now back to the color of the deep blue sea. "Pretty face but no brains? Or is all that fluffy hair taking up all the space?" He chuckled lowly at the look Sam gave him. "You, precious. Of course it's you that I want," he said, before looking around and moving his hand to the cautious hunter's wrist. He gave it a hard squeeze. "Follow me, darling, and no one'll get hurt."

Sam clenched his jaw, staring at the demon and wondering if he was bluffing. It was a possibility. But would gambling on it be worth it? Sam had no weapons on him, and an exorcism would take too long. Would be too risky with all these people around, laughing, chatting, vulnerable like blind sheep in a wolf's den. 

A smirking, hungry wolf.

"Alright," Sam acquiesced, glancing to the side before looking back at the victorious expression on the demon's face. _Not for long,_ he thought. Not for long, if he had a say in it. 

Max guided—or, considering the strength with which he was bruising Sam's wrist, dragged—him through the drunk and loud crowd to the backdoor, and led him outside, into the cold night air. Uneasy, he watched as the other kicked the door shut, but didn't have time to ask or even think about asking what the demon wanted, because as Max lifted his hand, both of them were transported to another location in the blink of an eye. Or more like the snap of a finger. 

Scenery completely changing, Sam staggered a bit as he was let go, as he tried to shake off the mild dizziness that was one of the unpleasant side effects of getting teleported without warning. Instead of a dark alley echoing with the lively noise of nightlife, they stood in a illuminated and deadly quiet room. Motel room, Sam recognizing the slightly dingy walls, the dusty-sour smell, the familiar atmosphere... His eyes almost instinctively searching for the duffel bags on the floor and guns on the table, instead finding a demon on the single, queen size bed wedged between two nightstands. 

None of this was giving him any reassuring thoughts, that was for sure.

"What are we doing here?" Sam looked around the room, out the window, but he didn't get any smarter. Tried the door. Locked, of course. "Where are we?"

"Like asking questions, don't you?" Max scoffed and leaned back on his hands, appearing way more relaxed than Sam would have wanted that black-eyed bastard to be. "Y'know you could use those pretty pink lips of yours for something much more productive and...fun, than talking."

This had to be a joke. "Are you still trying to hit on me?" Sam asked incredulously. Demons made deals and threatened them, usually, when they weren't trying to kill them like rabid bloodhounds. They never... _flirted_. At least not to this extent. 

"How did you figure it out?" Max sneered, and then flicked his wrist as Sam narrowed his eyes and was about to punch that asshole in his smug face, sending the startled hunter back into a conveniently positioned chair. No demon smacking for him. "No, Sammy. I'm not here because of the rogue older Winchester." He got up from the bed and made his way to the chair with lazy, sure steps. "I'm not here to wring a deal out of you." He circled around the chair, slowly, like a shark smelling blood. "I'm not here with any hidden agenda, no tricks up my sleeve; not here to piss you off or rile you up. Not here to rub any of our victories or your losses in. But speaking of rubbing..." Max trailed off, stopping right behind Sam and placing his hands on the trapped man's shoulders. Trapped and unmoving, a courtesy of those annoying demon powers that always made him feel like he was stuck in some giant, invisible spiderweb. "I do have something that could use some."

Sam shuddered, grimacing at the words combined with Max's warm breath against his ear. "You can't be serious."

"Oh," the demon drawled, one slow and inconspicuously rough hand sliding up his neck and into his hair, "I'm dead serious, darlin'. I could show you some proof, but..." Sam could hear the sneer in Max'a chuckle. "You see, I'm afraid you might choke on it. Not that that's a bad thing..." 

"You're sick," Sam spat, wrenching his hair out of the other's grasp. Good. He could at least still move his head. "But what else did I expect from a demon." Well, to be fair, definitely not this.

Max let out an amused exhale as his lips formed into a smile, Sam tensing his already rather stiff body as the other straightened up and walked around the chair, in front of him. "I'd much rather go with kinky, but sure, I'm sick." His gaze trailed along the uneasy hunter's body, from head to toe and back. When his eyes met Sam's, he licked his lips hungrily. "But I bet that won't stop a freak like you from enjoying every second of it. Right, _boy with the demon blood?"_  

Sam clenched his jaw, hard, swallowing as he glared daggers at the demon. "I'm not like that anymore," he hissed. "Haven't been for years." This was an obvious attempt to irritate him, he needed to let it go. "Why me?" he asked instead, relieved to feel he could also move his fingers, grip the arms of the chair. But still not enough. "Is this supposed to be some kind of revenge? Part of a big plan? Are you trying to get to me, get to...Dean?"

Max grinned like a shark, making Sam swallow whatever he wanted to say next. "Honestly, I just wanna fuck your insolent mouth. And that sweet ass." His grin widened. Darkened. "Heard the rumours from the Cage of how tight it was."

The hunter snarled. "Shut the hell up," he said lowly, piercing gaze filled with animosity and determination. 

"Fucktoys don't talk," Max remarked nonchalantly, visibly enjoying the confused and disgusted expression on Sam's face. "Yeah, that's all you are from now on. Until I get bored of you."

He closed the distance between them and wedged one knee between Sam's legs, kneeling on the chair as he leaned forward and began unbuttoning the other's shirt with unhurried, sure strokes of his fingers. Taking his time, enjoying the moment. 

"You are not going to do this," he stated, dry and cautionary, keeping his hard gaze fixed on Max and ignoring the fact that he was being undressed. "Stop it. This is stupid, and you know it." He tried reasoning, but that clearly wasn't working. Max has already finished unbuttoning his shirt, apprehension growing in Sam as he finally glanced down at his bare chest, tan skin and toned stomach, and the finger that was trailing up them, causing him to suck in a sharp breath. Alright, that was it. "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satan– _Mmph!"_  

"What did I say about talking?" Max tsked, meeting Sam's glare with one of his own as he cupped the hunter's chin, hard. "You don't. Do it." He let go of the other harshly, Sam grunting and making a face at the taste in his mouth from the rag that was suddenly pulled out of nowhere, and violently showed past his lips. After a moment of consideration, he decided he did not want to know where it came from. 

He glared, nostrils flaring as he pressed his back into the chair, and did anything he possibly could, with whatever little control he had over his body, to get away from Max's hands. He also tried spitting the rag out, but it simply wouldn't budge no matter what he did, and since pushing at it with his tongue only made the taste in his mouth grow worse, Sam resigned to letting himself be gagged... For now. 

He did not tolerate being molested, though. "You're being too loud, hole," Max hissed as the hunter shouted and yelled into the rag, his voice muffled but apparently still annoying enough to irk the demon. Good. "Don't make me punish you." He circled his finger around Sam's nipple, then pinched it hard, giving it a few brutal tugs and rubs. Okay, not good. "Or maybe you want that? Hmm? You'd like that, slut?" Max laughed and pulled back, though only after squeezing and tugging on both nipples. Roughly, and with sharp nails digging into Sam's sensitive flesh, drawing a half annoyed, half pained sound from him. 

Being unable to talk was bad, but not even being able to fight back? Sam was already feeling furious and helpless, and the demon was only getting started, if that shit eating grin on his face anything to go by. 

"Come on, you goddamn fucking slut." Max's mouth was producing more and more repulsive things, filthy words pouring from between his dry lips like a stream of sewage water. Being a lecherous bastard seemed to come as second nature to him, with all that stroking and groping he was doing, making Sam wonder if he was looking for breasts or something. "That's what you are, aren't you? Being a hunter doesn't get you laid that often, I bet. I bet... I bet it makes you so hungry for a good fuck. For a good, big, fat cock in your bitch ass to swallow it whole, eh?" The only hunger Sam saw were in the deep, black pools of the demon's eyes, in that craving, lust-raspy voice; in those eager, greedy hands that kept touching him, gripping his hair and rubbing his chest. "Oh, yes. Yes, fuck, this body wants it so bad," he panted, Sam making a disgusted sound, eyes widening, as he noticed the bulge in Max's pants—then a louder, startled one when Max's hands got tired of playing with his upper body and slid down to his crotch. 

"Mmng! Mphhn!" Sam protested the only way he could, clawing at the arms of the chair and pressing his feet, his heels into the floor. He watched with frantic eyes as the demon kneaded his cock through his jeans, then, apparently starting to get impatient, unzipped his pants. He yanked Sam's boxers down, tucked them under his balls, and pulled out his cock, all with rough movements of his calloused hands. Rough and needy.

"Yeah," Max drawled deeply, ravenously, sucking in a breath through his teeth and licking his lips as he gripped Sam's cock. He was still flaccid, definitely not interested in the demon in any way, dread and anger, revulsion forming a sickening ball in the pit of his stomach; but the demon didn't seem to care, not one bit. He was bent on getting his dirty paws on all of him. "Yeah, c'mon, that's it. Get that pretty whore cock hard for me." He sneered, tugging hard on Sam's cock and drawing a surprised grunt from him, the hunter biting down on the rag and squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to ignore the other's fingers stroking. "You love this. You fuckin' love this, you cock-slut, so don't even try to deny it. Don't fight it. Give in." Stroking, rubbing, thumbing on his slit roughly, and grinning at Sam's exasperated and muffled scream when his body began reacting. Only in the slightest, but still. "Gonna make you beg for it. Spread your ass with your fingers and beg, cry for my cock like the filthy little bitch you are. Want nothing more than for me to fuck you full of my come, have you dripping and debauched, wanna suck on my juicy cock and drink down all of it, down your throat, covering your face, oh god _fuck_..." 

Max groaned lewdly, the sound nauseating. He was jerking Sam's cock with one hand and palming his own with the other, the sight enough to make the hunter remain limp, barely half-hard at best. But the demon wasn't giving up, no matter how obvious it was that Sam wanted none of it. No matter how much he screamed and hollered, shouted in hateful despair, this powerlessness and rage throbbing within him almost making him lose his mind... He couldn't be heard. He couldn't fight back. He couldn't do anything but struggle fruitlessly while getting violated, stuck in a chair and unable to move, unable to be the hunter he was supposed to be. It made him feel pathetic. Useless. Slow. And like punching that wretched, revolting excuse of a demon. Seriously, no other demon has stooped so low as to actually try to rape one of them before. It was...unexpected, unbelievable, and all Sam could think of was how he wanted to overpower the demon's hold on him and fight back. How he—a pang of guilt and self-loathing spreading through him like a swift lightning at the thought—wanted his old and corrupt powers back, just for now, so he could use them to punish the demon. To take his shocked outrage out on him. But he also... He also thought of Dean. He thought of what Dean was doing right now. Of what he'd do if he saw his little brother like this. If he'd care at all.

Or if, Sam hoped like a naïve child, he'd save him.

It wasn't long before he was pulled out of his reverie, the demon's firm hands grabbing him and pulling him out of the chair. Sam only had a split second to react as feeling came back to his limbs, and as Max's fist gripped a handful of his hair and threw him on the bed, he managed to roll onto his back and kick the snarling demon lunging for him square in the chest. He jumped off the bed, quickly tucking himself back in and yanking the foul rag out of his mouth, turning just in time to see Max get up from the floor. And he looked _pissed_. 

"Play nice now, fucktoy," he growled as he rose to his feet, glaring with eyes black as oil, sticky and thick, and keeping Sam in place. "I don't wanna break too many bones."

Sam met the demon's glare with one of his own, fiery with the flames of anger and resentment. "You'd be lucky to lay your hands on me ever again, asshole," he hissed, and because he didn't actually have any weapons on him, he quickly grabbed the lamp on the nightstand and threw it at Max's head.

It shattered loudly against the wall as the demon smacked it out of the way as if it were a mere fly, the sound making Sam clench his jaw in irritation. "Cute." The demon smirked, tilting his head and taking a step towards the other. "Is that all you've got, Winchester?"

"You wouldn't want to know," Sam warned, narrowing his eyes and hoping the demon wouldn't call his bluff. He just needed to knock Max out somehow. He wasn't stupid; he knew he couldn't kill the demon without a weapon. So it all came down to brute force.

"Is that so?" Max cooed, and Sam clenched his hands into fists, tensing up as the other closed in on him, preparing to jump the demon. "Because what _I_ think is that you're just winging it. Right? You can't take me out without that handy little thing, what was it again?" Max snapped his fingers while pretending to think, then grinned wide. "Demon killing knife, right? So, you can't fight me. And you can't sneak past me to reach that door and run." He chuckled with an uncanny, perverse smirk on his face. "Unless you've got a white full-body latex suit on hand."

Sam frowned, but decided to instead ignore the demon's nonsense and pulled out Dean's flask from his pocket. He kept it with himself because he needed something to hold on to, some kind of memory, a moral support while looking for his brother. It was filled with whiskey instead of holy water—but Max didn't need to know that. "Maybe. But I'm a hunter. I still do have a few tricks up my sleeve." He shook the bottle a little, letting the other hear it was full. "You come near me and I'll empty it on your face," he said threateningly, then shrugged. "Or down your throat."

Max hesitated. He glanced between the flask and Sam, and the hunter could see the wheels turning in the demon's head. Turn and turn, and stop, followed by a broad and skittish grin. Damn it. "A little burn is nothing compared to the _burning_ ecstasy I'll feel with my huge cock buried deep in your insolent, tight little hole," he sneered nastily, before charging at Sam; but halted in confusion as the contents of the flask were thrown in his face. "What the hell?" He blinked and wiped his face, licking the strong alcohol from his lips. "This is just—" he exclaimed, but was cut short by Sam's fist meeting with his nose.

A shudder of slight disgust and sadistic pleasure passed through the desperate hunter as he felt the other's bone break under his fist, both of them ending up on the hard floor from the excess power Sam put into the punch. He was quick, though, to crawl onto the demon and rain down several more punches on his face while he was confused, messing it up until blood was seeping from Max's nose and split lip, until he didn't seem to be moving. Panting, Sam wiped his forehead with the back of his wrist, and took one last look at the other before getting up. 

And then falling to his knees, forgetting about the fact that demons didn't need to move to fight.

"You filthy little whore," Max spat, sitting up behind Sam as the hunter reached out to the table leg just inches away from his fingertips, trying to grab it so he could pull himself away from the other, his legs pretty much useless right now. "Messing up my fucking face like that, shit. You know..." He got up and stomped down on the small of Sam's back, hard enough to draw a loud, wounded grunt from him. "You know, I wanted to be gentle. Wanted to take it slow, coz I figured, pretty bitch's gotta be a virgin, y'know? Show him how good getting fucked feels, get your ass addicted to my cock. But man," he scoffed, "you just can't have it any other way than rough n'bloody, huh? But yeah, yeah, that's on me. That's on me." Max grabbed the other's hair, Sam screaming as he swore he felt tiny chunks of hair getting ripped from his scalp. "I should have known better, considering what kind of freak I'm about to fuck sore."

Sam cried out as he was dragged back to the bed by his hair, unable to fight or move much, aside from clawing at the demon's hand and wrist, and clumsily hitting his legs. Shit. Shit. He's really done it now. How was he supposed to fight Max? Like this, and at all? He didn't use to be so damn helpless, damn it, he needed to think of something, _do_ something before it was—

Too late. It was too late. Max wasted no time to undress him this time, literally ripping his clothes off. Sam grimaced as his shirt and pants were torn to shreds, as he was left naked on the bed with all of his skin exposed, face buried in the heavy smelling pillow and ass stinging from the merciless smacks it was receiving from the demon. "Little bitchboy's gotta be punished, right? C'mon, how about you count the strikes for me, huh? Count them out for Daddy."

"Go screw yourself," Sam growled and bared his teeth like a threatened, vicious animal. But also like a trapped and frenzied one, shouting at his body, at his muscles to move, to _move damn it_ , and getting even more infuriated when nothing happened; when all he could do was to just shout and grunt from his uselessness. And the spanking. "Stop it, you son of a bitch!" he bellowed, worked up and panting and just so, damn, fed up by feeling so powerless.

But of course, Max wasn't stopping. Not even close to stopping. "Careful whose mother you callin' a bitch, you bitch," he said with a degrading laugh, kneading the vulnerable hunter's ass and making Sam want to throw up. "Don't worry, I'll make you into a proper one. A good and proper hole for my cock, maybe for others as well. Bet you'd do so well on that whole glory hole business." He slapped Sam's ass hard and crawled up to his ear, purring, "Or maybe I'll just sell you to demons in Hell, pass your used, loose and come-sloppy hole around until they're all satisfied. There's enough of us that you'd never get even a second of peace, no moment without a good cock fucking your ass."

Blood draining from Sam's face at the words, and even though he knew the demon was just trying to scare him, that there was no way he'd end up like that, as a sex toy for a pack of horny demons, he couldn't help the horrified chill that ran down his spine at the idea of it. He didn't want to be used, he didn't want to be raped. By anyone. 

He hissed at the feeling of teeth sinking into his shoulder, the demon biting him while rubbing his repugnant, slick and hard cock against his ass, Sam letting out a mixture of a growl and a sob as panic rose in his chest. He didn't want this, didn't want Max licking and biting along his neck, didn't want him rubbing against him like a dog in heat, didn't want this hopelessness, this extreme and unbearable weakness that made him want to scream from the top of his lungs until his throat was sore.

Paralyzed, Sam closed his eyes and grit his teeth, swallowing back exasperated tears as Max kissed and bit down his back, then gave the same treatment to his ass before forcing a wet finger inside. At that, Sam's eyes flew open for a second, then squeezed shut again, the hunter groaning and hissing in abhorrence as the demon fingered him. "Look at this," he drawled with a mocking little chuckle, "look at how your ass is swallowing my finger up. So greedy, hmm? Want more?" Max thrust his finger ruthlessly, true to his word with no gentleness at all, then added a second one way too quickly, curling and rubbing them against Sam's insides, and receiving a loud grunt from him.

"You're crazy, you're goddamn– You're crazy i-if you think I'll let you do this," Sam snarled ferociously, hissing from the stabbing, prodding ache in his ass, the stretch and pull, the burning sensation of his tender skin painfully dragging along Max's fingers. It was worse than he expected, the way the demon shoved and jammed his fingers into his ass, so forceful and intent on getting them in all the way until the knuckles, making Sam fear that the other wasn't simply trying to scare him before. He was being so rough and eager, it wouldn't have been a surprise if he fucked the hunter into unconsciousness, before taking him to Hell and sealing his fate. "No, no, stop!" Sam gasped and yelled, the thought of being used like that, stripped of his dignity and everything he was, stood for, causing him to hyperventilate. "Get you fingers out of me, you rotten piece of sulphuric, sick fucking mother fucker!"

A slow, rhythmic clapping made both hunter and demon freeze. Sam, facing the dark corner of the room the sound came from, strained his eyes and watched as the shadow slouching in a couch stood up, and sauntered into the light, stopping Sam's heart as their eyes met. "That's one very nice, colorful language you've got there, Sammy. Didn't think you had it in you, to be honest, with you being the...gentler of the two of us." He smirked. "But I guess we all have our own little secrets, isn't that right?"

Sam just gaped, shock lingering in his eyes as his cheeks flushed a bright pink, his brain scrambling and trying to register the fact that his big brother, a demon who he's been searching for relentlessly for weeks, was standing in front of him; all the while he was naked on a bed, with another demon's fingers up his ass and cock brushing against his skin. 

"Two Winchesters in one day." Max smirked, wiggling his fingers inside Sam, who with every last bit of his willpower managed to keep his voice in. "What do you want? Wanna join us?" the demon asked and winked at Dean. "Cutie here might be a good fuck, but I bet your pretty cocksucking lips could make him come like a fountain, too. Could paint those freckles nice and white, mmm what do you say?"

Nausea took Sam over at those words. It was one thing wanting to rape him, but Dean? He snarled, glaring back at Max, about to tell him to shut up when his brother's amused laugh stopped him. "Sounds like fun, but I think I'd rather just watch for now," he said, those few words snatching the air from Sam's lungs, making no sense no matter which order he put them in.

"Really?" Max raised his eyebrows, thrilled, and licked his lips hungrily as he looked back at Sam. "Looks like we've got an audience, then, slut. Better put on a good show for big brother there, I'm sure you wouldn't wanna disappoint him."

"Dean!" He snapped out of his incredulous daze, staring at his brother who stood beside the bed with his arms crossed, and with an unreadable expression on his face. "Dean, what are you doing? Look, I know, I know we are not on good terms right now, okay? I know," he said, begging with his eyes for his demon brother to listen to him, to really hear him. "But this... You want to act like a demon, fine, but Dean, please, you can't just stand there and let him..." Sam gulped. "Not this."

He searched his brother's face during the silence following his plea, tension growing in the air, but then just as said tension, Sam's hope disappeared as Dean smirked at him, dark and mischievous, and said, "Nah. I think I'm just gonna sit back and enjoy the show." And with that, he pulled up a chair next to the bed, in Sam's field of vision so they could see each other, and leaned back. Seriously not planning to do anything, and breaking the other's heart.

"You really are one of us," the demon remarked with a sleazy, entertained laugh, and then simply went back to fingering Sam with now dry, even more painful fingers. "C'mon, let's make this a little more interesting," Max suggested, and in the next moment, it felt like a heavy weight was lifted from Sam as the pressure keeping him in place vanished. "Ah-ah-ah, slut, you're still not going anywhere," the demon said when Sam began struggling like a desperate fish out of water, kicking and thrashing around; but even though he could move his body again, that sly, sadistic demon just grabbed his wrists and pinned them against his lower back, using enough force to keep him still. Even like that...he was helpless. 

"Goddamn it, let me go!" he snapped, having had enough of this shitshow. "Let go, let me the fuck go!" He turned to Dean with betrayed eyes. "You can't let this bastard molest me, Dean, for god's sake please! If you don't do anything h-he's really going to—" Sam was cut off by his own scream as Max pulled his fingers out, then shoved four entire, wet fingers up his ass so hard he was sure his hole was getting torn apart, just like his clothes were. 

"It's no use, hole," the demon spat as he fiercely rammed the painful digits up the writhing hunter's ass, increasing the speed at Sam's cry of agony. Clearly enjoying every second of his prey's suffering. "Brother dearest's one of us now. He's not some boring, delusional hero anymore. He's not a failure...like you." He sniggered, twisting his fingers inside Sam. "He's fun, and he ain't gonna listen to your pathetic wailing, you kinky little slut."

Sam kept his eyes shut, not wanting to see, to hear, to believe. He didn't want to believe what was happening, didn't want to believe the words the demon was hissing into his ear like a devilish snake. He didn't... But as Max finally pushed the last finger inside him, curled his hand into a fist, and began thrusting harder, impossibly harder, Sam arched his back and cried out in misery with an expression of pure dismay painted over his face. In his voice, in his wide eyes; eyes that welled up with tears as they saw Dean sitting comfortably in the chair, leaning back with a leg crossed, without showing even the slightest hint of concern. They often lied to each other, but Sam has learned to read his brother from the tone of his voice, from the brief shifts in his expression, from the look in his eyes and faintest twitch of lips. He knew Dean, he knew him more than anyone—which is why it hurt even more when he realized those heartless eyes truly belonged to his brother. No lies, no acts. No love.

Only a twisted smirk as their eyes met.

He sniffled, hating how it hurt, how his heart and body ached from the cruel treatment. Max continued fisting him, forcing his hand deeper and laughing, enjoying every second of torturing him, and probably getting off on Sam's cries and tears. "That's the spirit, boy! Come on, come on!" He picked up the pace, the hunter sure he was going to end up getting his organs pulled out or punctured if this continued. He wasn't even remotely hard now, not even feeling an ounce of pleasure from the fisting, from anything that was happening to him. "Come on, bitch. Scream for big brother!" 

And Sam screamed, but not because the demon ordered him to. His high-pitched scream bounced off the dingy room's walls as pain like lightning shot through him, as Max sank his nails into his prostate, as the demon's wicked laugher filled his head and blurred his thoughts. The pain lasted maybe a minute, maybe a couple seconds, Sam wasn't completely sure, since after his screams and incomprehensible babbling—during which he was almost certain he cried out Dean's name—his entire world turned upside down.

Well, not exactly. 

From one second to the next, he found himself lying on his back, ass throbbing as he stared up at the ceiling, disoriented. A yellowish white ceiling, a single moment of normalcy among all this craziness...until the dark red color of blood splattered across it, yanking Sam back into reality. He gasped, watching in bewilderment as both demons fought on the floor next to the bed, Dean clearly winning with Max's jugular in his hand dripping blood onto the dirty carpet. His demon brother discarded the bloody flesh and wiped his hands on the other demon's clothes, Max still alive and choking, gagging, his body spasming and eyes staring wildly at the same ceiling. 

"Thanks for prepping my brother for me," Dean said with a sneer as he stood up and looked down at Max, who jerkily met his gaze and began gagging on his blood louder, trying to say something. "Yeah, I know. Don't mention it." He scoffed, before his face turned stone cold and hard, like sharp ice, and lifted a foot; Sam cringing and looking away just in time, but still hearing the sickening and crunchy sound of the demon's skull shattering under Dean's foot. 

He kept his gaze on the chair, not wanting to look at the corpse on the floor. Or his brother. But as he heard footsteps approaching, and felt the mattress dip as his brother crawled onto the bed, Sam knew he couldn't avoid this. There was no looking away, there was no waking up, there was no ignoring the situation. He had to face it, literally.

He did not expect to see Dean's face hovering inches away from his, however. "Dean," he breathed, blinking at the other and gulping in nervousness. Maybe even...fear.

Dean sensed it, had to see it in his eyes, and smirked with a slight, somewhat amused exhale. "Sammy," he purred, tone dancing along the thin line between teasing and ominous, and raised a hand with which he slowly caressed the hunter's cheek and tucked a few strands of hair behind his ear. "Miss me?"

"Dean," he whispered questioningly, pressing his back into the headboard. "What's going on? Was this..."

"All part of my plan? Yeah." The other flashed him a complacent smile, kneeling between Sam's legs with one hand pressed against the headboard, next to his head. And he didn't like it. Although his brother was acting calm and sort of normal for now, the uncomfortably close position was unnerving Sam. Much like the fact that Dean just crushed a demon's skull, the other's blood still splattered all over his hands and chest, neck and a bit of his chin. "What's wrong, Sammy?" Dean must have noticed his unease, which somehow made his heart beat faster, damn it no, slow down, Dean will hear it. "You don't seem too happy." His brother's intense gaze lowered, gliding down Sam's body then back up again. "Did you maybe not want to be saved?"

"Did I– Seriously?!" He sat up straight, despite the sting in his ass, and shoved at Dean angrily. "You watched as I got raped, Dean! You just– You just sat there and _watched!_ " he exclaimed accusingly and glared at his brother, scowling, looking for a shred of remorse. And again, his heart sank as he found none.

"Aren't you overreacting a little here, Sammy? I mean I did kill him. I stopped him." He leaned forward, dark eyes gazing at him intently, eyes that Sam knew could turn even darker any moment. "Wanna see?"

"No, I don't—" Sam's lips twitched, and he swallowed hard, looking away and pursing his lips as he closed his eyes. He couldn't do this right now. He had to get out of here. "Move," he said more quietly as he pushed at Dean's shoulder and crawled off the bed, limping, to get his clothes; but then stopped abruptly. And not out of his own accord.

No. No. Not again.

He whipped his head to the side, wide-eyed, but Max still seemed very much dead on the floor with his leg sticking out from behind the bed, lying in a pool of his own blood. But if it wasn't him, then...

He took a deep, somewhat shaky breath as he felt his brother's hand slide up his back, splayed fingers running up the nape of his neck and tangling in his short hair. "Sam, Sam, Sam..." Dean sighed behind his ear, and grabbed a fistful of his hair, making him hiss, his scalp throbbing from all the mistreatment. "Why would you think I'd let you leave? After all I went through? After getting rid of that pest for you." He tugged on Sam's hair, pulling his head back and brushing his warm, plush lips that had the hunter shivering, up his neck and jaw. "After he did such a great job at preparing you."

Sam's breath caught in his throat, the blood draining from his face. "You can't...be serious," he said with a disbelieving little smile, trying to look back at Dean.

"Don't worry." His brother let go of his hair and spun him around, rough yet eerily gentle hands stroking his waist. "You won't know what hit you, I'll make you feel so good."

"Jesus," Sam gasped and backed away, almost tripping over a chair as he watched the other and shook his head. "You're serious." His back hit the wall, one part of him panicking while another was too busy giving his brother an utterly cheated and disappointed, sickened look. "You actually want to..." He forced his mouth to work. "You actually want to fuck me, too," he said with a rueful scoff. "Are all demons rapists now?"

Dean raised his arms with a cheeky, almost childish grin. "Now? Demons are real nasty, evil creatures," he said as he began closing in on Sam, slowly, like a predator creeping towards its trapped prey. "What makes you think they haven't always been rapists?" Sam tried getting out of there, realizing this was not going to end well, but found he was stuck to the wall, his big brother clearly relishing in the obvious dread in his eyes. "As for me..." Dean stopped in front of him, giving him a once-over. "I always get what I want. So there's no need for me to use force."

"Get what you want, huh?" Sam sneered, but he wasn't fooling anyone, his anxious and rapid breathing giving him away even as he flashed Dean a derogatory smirk. "You must really be delusional if you think I'll give you anything. Guess stupidity comes with being a demon."

Dean returned his smile, nodding and looking down with a little snort, then bit his lip, still smiling, before stepping even closer and grabbing Sam's cock. "Is that so?" He raised his eyebrows, squeezing with a long stroke, his smile turning into a grin as Sam hit the back of his head against the wall with an unsuccessfully stifled groan. "Guess we'll just have to see, won't we?" 

Sam clenched and unclenched his hands, the only things he could move besides his head, his face closing up as he took a deep breath, lips twitching. "No," he gritted out, looking down at Dean. "We won't, because there is nothing to see. Dean." He narrowed his eyes slightly. "I won't play your aberrant little game. I don't care if you're a demon, I don't care if you've lost your mind, but the fun stops here. I'm your brother, Dean," he stated. "I'm not going to start begging, or whatever you're expecting here. And I'm certainly not going to make this _fun_ for you." He cocked his head. "So you might as well just let go of me and come back to the bunker, because I'm not going to play along."

Dean licked his teeth, and bit his tongue thoughtfully. "So you say you're not going to react, no matter what I do?" he asked, rubbing the head of Sam's cock between his thumb and index finger. "At all?"

"That's exactly what I'm saying," he hissed, even as he had to take in a deep breath at the rubbing. "I told you, I'm your _brother._ You might think this is funny, or you just enjoy being an asshole demon, I really can't tell with you, but we're still family. You're not going to make me feel anything, Dean." He gave a small shake of his head. "Aside from maybe being disturbed."

"Okay," his brother said after a long pause, shrugging. "Alright." He reached back and pulled out a tiny bottle of lube from his back pocket, grinning at Sam when he frowned. "What? I'm always prepared. You never know..." he drawled, eyes traveling down the other's body, then back up, followed by a smug smirk on his face as he poured some lube in his palm. Which he then rubbed against Sam's cock, fingers wrapping along the shaft and stroking it gently, way too gently and lightly, as if teasing him in a way.

Or just wanting to irritate him.

"Is this fun for you? Is it really?" He managed to get words past his lips that didn't sound too strained after a couple minutes of his brother slowly, softly stroking his cock. His already half-hard cock, a fact he tried not to dwell on too much, in fear of only hating himself and his body more. "Touching me? Doing this to...family? Because I don't think so," he said, still appearing somewhat confident and unresponsive—except for, well, yeah—even in this fucked up situation. "I doubt you'd enjoy stroking your brother's cock, Dean. You're an ass, even more so as a demon, but you're not a..." God, he hated that word. "You're not a freak."

Dean's hand never even wavered. "And that's where you're wrong, Sammy. That's where you've always been wrong... Overestimating me like that," he said, slowly, letting the words sink in, before he took a hold of Sam's wrist and guided his hand to his crotch. Pressing it to the hard, warm bulge in his pants. "Still think I'm not _really_ enjoying it?" Dean asked, tone mocking and lips pulling into a triumphant sneer at the look of disbelief on Sam's face. 

"It's..." he breathed, his hand frozen and rigid against his brother in his hand. "It's because you're a demon, i-it's not—" Sam tried to keep denying what was beginning to seem like the obvious, ugly truth, but his demon brother was having none of it, cutting him off by thrusting into his hand.

"Cut the shit already, Sam," he said suddenly, with a low hiss to his voice, sounding fed up. "We both know it's not because i'm a demon all of a sudden. Sure, dying and coming back as this thing, it changes you. But do you know what it _really_  does?" Dean flashed him a taunting smirk. "It just brings out all the nasty shit that's been inside you all along. All this time. Scrapes it off the walls and the floor, drags it out of the corner and into the light, collects it and spits it out. Lets it out and, man, let me tell you, this is the most free I've felt in...forever." Dean slammed the other's wrist back against the wall, Sam back to being completely trapped like a butterfly pinned under glass, now with not only his body, but heart aching as well. "So don't use your pathetic explanations to make sense of my behavior."

Before Sam could've gotten another word out, another desperate excuse to keep fooling himself so he wouldn't have to face the monster his brother has become, his legs were suddenly grabbed and lifted, the hunter gasping at the strange sensation of being suspended by nothing, and then the even worse realization that his legs were being wrapped around Dean's waist.

"I've been waiting," Dean whispered as he skilfully unzipped his pants and pulled out his fully erect cock, "for so long. Sammy, you can't even imagine." He squeezed the other's thighs, Sam speechless from apprehension as the demon pressed his body against his, soft lips brushing against his collarbone. "I never really noticed, though. I mean, we're both real good at ignoring shit we don't wanna notice or admit to ourselves, right? So I wasn't aware of it, I repressed it, I don't know—either way, once I became a demon, it all made sense to me all of a sudden." Sam averted his eyes and grit his teeth until it hurt, a way of distracting himself from the warm breath ghosting over his neck, and the kisses being laid along it. "All the fighting, all the sacrificing, all those possessive and selfish, overprotective things. All those times I was ready to throw my life away for you made sense, and I finally, _finally_ saw the single most important thing I've never been able to notice before." Dean raised his gaze and locked eyes with Sam. "I finally understood that what I wanted, what I needed the most has been in front of me this entire time... I was just too terrified to take it." He smirked. "Well, not anymore." 

"Dean." He gulped, and despite the fact he said he wasn't going to be affected by whatever his brother did, Sam was starting to feel it. Starting to feel the panic slowly rising in his chest as the heavy, hot weight of Dean's big cock rested against his stomach. "Dean, okay. Look, I get it. Okay. We can...figure something out," he said, brow furrowing in desperation as his brother laughed. "No, no seriously. I'm serious, Dean, we can talk about this. I know we can, I... I just know. So, so come on, you don't have to do this. You don't have to."

"You're right, I don't," Dean stated, staring at him, and it only took Sam one look to know that his brother didn't care. That, yeah, he didn't have to; but wanted to, more than anything.  

"Wait!" Sam exclaimed just as his brother's freshly lubed up, cold fingers found his loose hole. They pushed inside with laughable, sickening ease, four entire fingers rubbing against his insides in a painstakingly slow manner, and forcing a harrowed sound from the crushed man. He tensed, having trouble breathing properly, wild gaze fixated on a the corner of the bathroom's doorway, Sam trying with the his last shred of dignity—and sanity—to focus on the white painted corner. Focus until that was all he could see and feel, until he detached from his body, until all the invasive touching, all the stomach-lurching warmth of his brother's body, all the unshed tears were blocked out and forgotten, until he could just float away, away from this nightmare. It had to be a nightmare. 

A nightmare he couldn't wake up from.

Dean's fingers slipping out of him, swiftly and without warning, unfortunately caused him to snap out of his blank, hollow-faced reverie, Sam blinking as he slowly turned his head to stare at his brother. "Now, don't look so dead," Dean cooed, caressing Sam's sides and stroking, gently but firmly squeezing his ribs. "I won't hurt you." His ever sly eyes had a slightly serious glint to them as he pressed their chests flush together, warm whiskey breath tickling Sam's lips and hand slipping down to guide and rub the smooth and slick head of his cock against the hunter's open hole. "I wanna fuck you. Fuck you _hard,_ so every angel and demon can hear your screams. I wanna take away every hope, every last shred of control you think you possess over me, over this situation. Over everything. I want to ruin you, baby brother," he whispered, Sam's breath hitching as the other's tongue ran across his bottom lip, "but I won't hurt you. Not really." And then he thrust his hips forward, and with that single movement, his cock was buried inside Sam, impaling him on the thick and burning length.

He grunted with a gasp, biting down on the inside of his cheeks and tipping his head back, the blood on the ceiling making him wonder just which one was worse—raped by the demon or his brother. He blinked away tears, taking in a shaky breath as Dean left marks all over his neck, and began moving inside him, Sam pretty sure that giant thing was messing up his insides real thoroughly. Because now he understood why Dean was always so confident, always so good with the ladies. Of course he'd have no trouble going up to women and sleeping around, when he had a dick every man wished for. A dick just the right size, big and thick enough to fill Sam completely but not break him, slightly curved and reaching, rubbing against all the good spots. Well, spots that _would_ have felt good if Sam wanted any of this.

Dean kissed him. He wasn't sure when it happened, mind too caught up in trying in vain to ignore the fiery slip and slide of his brother's cock inside him, the way he pounded his ass against the wall, the intoxicating and wet sound of skin slapping against skin making Sam lose it. And feel a strange, sickening but scorching, intense burn in his stomach that was gradually spreading across the rest of his body. So, too busy taking quick and deep, frantic breaths as he was getting his ass fucked raw by his brother, he only noticed the lips sealing his own when his next inhale was cut short. 

"Mmnph!" He let out a startled, muffled sound, not expecting the surprisingly intimate kiss. Dean kissed him hard, moving his lips against Sam's fervently, like a starving man, not even pulling away or pausing for air, forcing Sam to focus on breathing through his nose. Tongue against his lips and teeth, his brother made sure to lick ever corner of his mouth before slipping his curious and greedy tongue inside, swirling and rubbing it against Sam's tongue, and kind of shoving it down his throat. Gasping for air, the hunter attempted to pull away, but ultimately failed and only got kissed more, the hot and wet, intense kissing starting to make him go limp. In fact, Dean's licking and sucking, biting and kissing was so distracting, he didn't even realize his brother had picked up the pace and was fucking him ruthlessly, ramming his ass and rocking his body fast and hard, harder; and as the unavoidable happened, Sam cried out, his back arching with a full body shiver, and his eyes welling up with mortified tears.

Dean, of course, couldn't have been happier. "Found your sweet spot, baby boy," he purred and rolled his hips languidly, making sure the spongy head of his cock rubbed nice and good against the other's prostate. Sam moaned, followed by an exasperated whine as he shook his head and pushed at Dean's shoulders, wanting him away, far away—then realized he was pushing his brother. Moving his arms. "Yeah," Dean rasped with a shrug, hands creeping over to cup and fondle the other's ass. "I don't feel like keeping you trapped anymore. It's not like you're gonna fight me now, anyway. Right?" He grinned like a shark, and groped Sam's ass hard, spreading his cheeks and slamming into him brutally, somehow going even deeper and nailing his prostate over and over again. And again. And again. 

And Sam lost.

"Dean!" he screamed wantonly, his now hard and throbbing cock twitching between their bodies as flames of burning pleasure licked at it, wrapped around his cock and filled his ass. "Holy fu– Aah! Dean, D-Dean!" Unable to think clearly anymore, ecstasy taking complete and utter control of his body and mind, Sam wrapped his arms around his brother's neck and tightened his legs around the other's waist, clinging and writhing against him as he was fucked stupid. He moaned loudly, mewling like a whore with high-pitched, needy sounds, and rolling his hips, doing his best to ride Dean's big cock. It was incredible. And unfair. There was no pain, at all, only pleasure beyond his wildest imagination. Mind-numbing, unbelievable, overwhelming pleasure, that had Sam clawing at Dean's back and screaming his brother's name; that tore across his body like an aggressive typhoon, leaving nothing but uncontrollable need behind; that made him want nothing more than to come, than to have Dean keep fucking him like this so he wouldn't have to think about anything, so he _couldn't_ think, never wanting this to stop. 

This time when Dean kissed him, he didn't fight it. He returned the kiss, which quickly turned passionate and hot as Sam grabbed the other's hair and pressed even closer. He could feel his brother smirking against his lips, but he didn't care right now, instead biting the smug fuck—a very faint part of him, in the briefest of moments, wanting revenge—and kissing him harder. In return, Dean readjusted his grip on the mewling hunter's ass and, somehow, fucked him even more savagely, skewering his prostate with his hard and pulsing cock. With the change of pace, Sam could feel he was getting closer _fast_ , and just as he thought, after a few more minutes of getting rammed into like an animal, he cried out with a loud, drawn-out moan as his orgasm slammed through him, squeezing every bit of come from his cock, which twitched with each spurt of come painting their abdomen a warm, sticky white. 

Fucked out and out of breath, a few soft groans escaped Sam as he slumped against Dean while he continued thrusting, now erratically, and it wasn't long before he too came with a primal growl, which sent a shiver down the other's spine. Both of them panting, they stayed in their entangled position against the wall, then Sam began to squirm as the come filling him to the brim started leaking from his ass, following Dean's cock that slipped out from the loose and wet, sloppy hole. 

Thankfully, Dean realized that his little brother was most definitely not going to be able to stand after their wild rabbit-like fucking, so he graciously carried the limp man to the bed, then tossed him on the mattress much less gracefully. "Got fucked real good, didn't you?" He scoffed, crawling next to him and lying down on his back, arms crossed behind his head with a sigh, before glancing at Sam. "Hey. Did you pass out from my dick?"

Sam groaned, rolling onto his stomach so as to relieve to soreness in his ass, and then glared at Dean. "Go screw yourself next time," he spat, and then grabbed a pillow before burying his face in it. He couldn't... He couldn't believe this just happened. He couldn't believe he had sex with his brother and enjoyed it.

"I think I'd rather stick to screwing you. Much more satisfying," Dean said, yawning and scratching his balls with a grunt. "Wanna change locations? Dead guy's starting to stink up the place."

Sam propped himself on his elbows and frowned. "I'm not going anywhere with you." He gripped the pillow tight. "I... Dean, you... I can't pretend as if nothing happened."

"Who told you to?" his brother asked with a snort. "Don't pretend. I want you to remember how good I fucked you."

"Dean–"

"Sam." He raised his deep voice, interrupting the other and making him shut up. "I don't need it. Your moping and the guilt and the shame. I don't wanna hear it," Dean said as he sat up and crossed his legs, sort of forcing Sam to sit as well, as he didn't really want to lie in bed with is brother's junk so close to his face. "Just accept it. We fucked, and it was awesome." Dean's lips stretched into a crooked smirk, and he traced his knuckles along Sam's shoulder and chest. "And we're gonna go back to the bunker and fuck some more. You should be happy... I mean, you _did_ wanted me back, didn't you?"

Shivering at the touch, Sam grabbed the other's wrist and pushed it away, averting his eyes. "Not like this..." he whispered, before raising his gaze at Dean. "I wanted you back. I wanted to find you, I looked for you, but..." He shook his head. "Not like this. Because even if we would go back now, what– What am I supposed to do? I can't, I won't let you touch me again. And we just can't go back to normal, either."

"Then this is gonna be our new normal. Sammy," his brother drawled, cupping the hunter's chin and suddenly yanking him in close. "It doesn't have to be bad. You know that, too, you could see it. You could feel it. You don't have to...hate it. Us being more than brothers."

"And what exactly is that supposed to be?!" Sam demanded, pushing Dean away and climbing out of the bed, wobbling a little bit as he found his underwear and put it on. "Fuck buddies? Your personal little sex toy? Lo—" He swallowed hard, furrowing his brow at Dean. "Lovers?"

Dean watched him from under his long lashes, watched silently and for so long that Sam thought he just wasn't going to answer, before he finally got off the bed as well and walked over to him. Still naked. "We can be whatever you want us to be," he crooned, splaying his hand over Sam's chest and moving it up his abdomen; however only getting halfway before the hunter took a hold of his wrist and glared.

"No." He moved Dean's hand away, squeezing his wrist. He needed answers. He needed to know. "What am– What are we? To you. Right now."

His brother pulled his hand back, then crossed his arms, appearing to be thinking for a moment, after which he simply shrugged his shoulders and raised his eyebrows in an expression of disinterest. "I don't know," he said, then rolled his eyes when Sam sighed. "Lovers," Dean stated, then. "If I'd have to guess, I would say we are lovers. But the kind who mainly fuck. None of that sappy bullshit."

"Lovers..." Sam echoed, the word feeling alien in his mouth as he used it to describe their relationship. They've always been... Family. Blood. Brothers. Never lovers. 

Noticing Sam's unease, Dean patted his biceps. "Don't you shut down now. We still have a few beds and possible tables to dirty back at the bunker," he said, wiggling his eyebrows at Sam, who opened his mouth but couldn't say anything for a long time.

When he finally found his voice, they were both back at the bunker, in Dean's room. "Dean..."

"Aw come on, I wanna do it in my bed. Don't chicken out now," he complained, narrowing his eyes. "And it's not like I'm gonna let you run, either."

"I know." Sam ran a hand through his shaggy hair. He felt tired. "But I can't do this now. I..." He pursed his lips as a slight red color crept into his cheeks. "I'll have sex with you. I promise. Just, just not now. Too much has happened, and I'm tired, both mentally and physically, and... Just let me sleep, Dean. And tomorrow, I promise..."

Dean flopped onto the mattress, groaning and praising the memory foam. "Fine, princess. You can sleep on it." He patted the bed, but Sam shook his head. "Seriously?"

"You can't expect me to be okay with this from one moment to the next, Dean." He took a hold of the doorknob and opened the door, before looking back at the other over his shoulder. "You had years to think about and deal with your feelings... I'm going to need _at least_ a day to think about mine." And then he was out of the room without waiting for his brother's answer, heading straight to his own room and collapsing under the covers once inside. 

And even though he tried not to, Sam fell asleep within minutes, exhausted, the last thing on his mind being the question he dreaded to think about, and dreaded even more to answer. 

Mainly because he already knew, deep down, that the answer was going to be yes. 

_Yes,_ he loved Dean.

 


End file.
